Well, here we are again.

It is roughly a week short of a year since I last updated this. Funny to think of all that has happened since then, isn't it? I daresay this entire year can be categorized by my guilt and frustration for this chapter and my inability to finish it.

Yet here it is.

What are you waiting for? Have at it!

Hermione's POV

It was the middle of the night when Hermione woke.

She came to in her cot in Ginny's room in the Burrow. Owls and crickets could be heard outside and a chilly breeze found its way through Ginny's open window. Hermione shivered, though the cold had nothing to do with it.

It had happened again. She'd had the dream; the same dream she'd been having since Malfoy Manor. But, after the defeat of Voldemort only a week ago, it'd been getting gradually worse. Now it wasn't just her watching as various friends were tortured by Bellatrix; it was flashes of light everywhere; her friends falling dead from her side; Bellatrix screaming for answers and pain shooting through her arm where Bellatrix had carved the angry red letters into her flesh. Some nights were worse than others, but all of them were bad.

Tonight had been one of the really bad ones. It had started with herself being tortured until she couldn't move. Then, as she lay there, paralyzed, Bellatrix had brought Ron up from the dungeon, just in time for Voldemort himself to show up and torture Ron. Hermione had tried to move, but the slightest movement she managed to make was met with a scream and kick from Bellatrix. Nonetheless, Hermione had struggled until her body was throbbing, the screams of Ron echoing in her head, turning from inaudible cries to words in her head. "It's your fault! It's all your fault!"

And so Hermione hugged one of her pillows, burying her face in it to avoid waking Ginny with her sobs. Several times, she attempted to calm herself down, but to no avail. She couldn't get the image of Ron, bloody and battered, screaming at her in anger and begging for mercy that would never be shown. She felt like she had to see him… just to know he was okay…

After five minutes of indecision, Hermione made up her mind. She stood and hesitated, glancing at her dressing gown folded neatly on the chair beside her cot. I'm not going to wake him up, just see him, she thought to herself. I shouldn't need it.

Hermione exited Ginny's room stealthily and began up the stairs, taking them one precise step at a time. It was a good minute before she reached the top floor. She leaned her head against his door and, to her relief, heard the soft sounds of his snoring coming from the other side. He's okay, she tried to tell herself. Now you can just go back…

But Hermione wanted to see him, just to make sure. Really, there could be anyone sleeping in his room, right? Why risk it when she could just make sure it was him? Acting while she was still in this mindset, she slowly twisted the doorknob.

It opened with a small click and Hermione leaned her head in, relaxing slightly as she saw Ron lying on his stomach, facing the door. His right arm was sprawled out beside him, his left lying carelessly over his head. As she watched, he shifted further onto his belly, almost burying his face in the pillow. He muttered something in his sleep and groaned, causing Hermione's stomach to twist. Is he okay? She wondered worriedly. Is he having a nightmare? Maybe I should wake him… I'd want him to do the same for me. Then again, how am I going to explain my being in his room at such an hour? Perhaps I should just-

"Hermione?"

/

Ron had been dreaming.

He couldn't really remember the dream, though he quite distinctly felt as though he'd been drowning. He'd awoken to find his head in his pillow, which had indeed explained the 'drowning' situation, but had been rather confused by the sound of creaking wood.

Maybe he was still dreaming?

"Hermione?"

Hermione blinked, realization joined by horror as she looked back at him. She was too far away and it was too dark to be sure, but Ron figured she was blushing. "Ron! I'm sorry I – I um… did I wake you?"

Ron felt as though that wasn't as important an issue as to why she was sneaking into his room in the middle of the night. Nevertheless, he reassured her that she hadn't. "But why are you here?" he asked. "It's, bloody hell, it's almost 1:00 in the morning!"

"Oh, well, about that…" Hermione glanced out the door, as if debating whether it would be better to retreat now. "I just… I had a nightmare and figured I'd better stretch my legs."

"Really? I never knew you enjoyed nice midnight strolls through my room."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "For your information, this is the only time I've come in here while you were asleep," she said, as though it were some sort of achievement or something. "Regardless, you weren't supposed to wake up."

"Well that sure doesn't sound shifty," Ron muttered, almost to himself. He sat up in his bed and stretched his stiff muscles when he became aware of Hermione staring at him. "Er… are you okay?"

She looked down, as though embarrassed. "Um, well, honestly? No, I – I'm not okay."

Ron frowned and scratched the back of his neck. Maybe I should ask her about it? He thought. Yeah, I guess birds like it when you talk things out with them… I should try that.

"So… would you like to talk about it?"

Hermione shrugged, looking extremely uncomfortable. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, which Ron suddenly realized was extremely exposed by… a tank top? But she slept in a jumper while we were camping! Then again, that had been winter, and this was almost summer. It only made sense to wear a tank top in summer.

` "It's just, I've been having these horrible dreams," Hermione said, distracting Ron, who shuffled awkwardly where he sat as he realized he had been staring at her chest for longer than a few seconds. He waited patiently for her to continue, keeping his gaze firmly locked on her face. Nope, he wasn't even going to think about how she had just walked into his room wearing the near minimum of clothing. Not even a little bit.

/

About ten seconds passed before Ron said anything.

"Well… if you want to you can… I guess we can sit and talk about it if you like? I mean, my mum always says that helps with bad dreams and stuff…"

Hermione wasn't sure whether she liked the sound of that. On one hand, she was worried that he would think she was stupid for getting upset about something as silly as a nightmare while, on the other, she would give almost anything to sit and talk with him like this. Yes, sit and talk and do absolutely positively nothing else. Nothing else.

"That sounds… okay."

Ron nodded and shifted. He threw the covers toward the wall and scooted toward the foot of the bed, sitting cross-legged on the mattress so he was still facing the door. He patted the empty space to his left in an inviting gesture.

Hermione could hardly believe her luck as she joined him, making herself comfortable with her back against the wall. She glanced at him nervously. He was wearing what he seemed to think would pass as a reassuring smile, but seemed far too charged to be something so innocent. He almost looked excited, which Hermione couldn't take as an insult as she herself was pretty excited to be sitting so close to him at such a private hour.

When he spoke, he seemed a little nervous. "So… what's on your mind?"

She smiled slightly despite herself. "A lot."

He slouched slightly lower to the bed, smiling widely. "I've got all night."

And so Hermione told him. She told him about the nightmares that haunted her sleep, the anxiety and stress that loomed over her by day, and even went as far as to express her worries for what the future could possibly hold. He tried to comfort her, confessing to her his own problems with guilt and depression that he'd been facing since the hunt, which didn't do much to make Hermione feel better. Eventually they got onto the topic of complaining about the press together and, after getting lost in the conversation for a few minutes, they had started recollecting old times before Voldemort had returned and the world had gone to hell.

She noticed herself growing sleepy first. They must have been talking for half an hour when her eyelids began getting heavy. Ron also seemed to be having trouble; he was yawning, his blinks becoming slower and each one leaving his eyes more closed than the last. Despite her wanting to stay awake to talk with him more, Hermione felt thoroughly content with the calm, sleepy atmosphere surrounding them. It was relaxing - almost assuring - to know that they could still be together like this despite all that had happened between the war and the kiss.

Unfortunately the 'relaxing and assuring' atmosphere did nothing to help Hermione's impending sleepiness. It was becoming more and more clear that they were not going to remain awake much longer, so Hermione decided it was time to do the appropriate thing and head to bed.

"Thanks for talking with me, Ron," she said, arching her back to wake herself up a little. "But I think I better be getting back to bed."

"Huh? No! I mean, uh..."

Hermione looked around at him. Though she was confused, she felt hopeful butterflies beginning to flutter in her stomach and she was suddenly wide awake.

"What?"

Hermione's eyes were adapted to the dark enough so that she could see his ears coloring. Ron shrugged, obviously trying to appear nonchalant about something. "I don't know it's just... we're already here, and I don't have a problem with you sleeping in my bed and if you have a nightmare again I can help or something."

Hermione felt a wide grin spreading across her face and hoped the dark would help mask it. "That's incredibly sweet of you Ron, but I couldn't possibly-"

"Yes you could."

She straightened slightly. Something about his offer seemed forbidden – risky in an alluring manner. It had been so long since Hermione had dealt with a non-life-threatening risk that she was feeling more than up to the challenge.

"Okay then. I'll stay."

/

Ron hoped his excitement was less obvious on the outside. "Brilliant! Here, give me a minute, we're sitting on the blanket."

He slid forward and turned around to pull the blanket from where it had been pushed down between the wall and the bed. As soon as it was free he straightened it and reached over Hermione to cover her with it. He could've sworn he saw her shiver as his arm almost touched her. "There," he said, doing his best to ignore their proximity. "Comfortable?"

"Yes. Thank you, Ron. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Ron settled into the blanket. Hermione lay down with her back to the door so she was facing Ron as he made himself comfortable. Her eyes were bright - almost like some sort of liquid brown as she stared at his chest. There was a strange gleam in her eye that made Ron swallow thickly. That's a bit strange, even for her! Wonder what she's thinking...

There, however, seemed to be no need to ponder the question as Hermione closed her eyes with an odd sort of finality and filled the distance between them by scooting closer and laying on her side beside him, so close that he could feel her hands where they were trapped between their chests.

Ron froze. He was now face-to-face with Hermione's forehead. He could smell her hair a few inches from his nose, seeming to fill him with the sweet yet subtle scent of vanilla. He inhaled deeply and, his body acting on its own accord, draped his right arm over Hermione and pulled her closer so that their knees touched.

Even though he had been tired just a minute ago, Ron could no longer feel a single trace of sleepiness inside him. His head was alive and buzzing with thoughts of Hermione's hair and knees and where his hand was now splayed flat on her back. He could only imagine what her skin may feel like beneath her thin tank top - soft and warm and smooth to the touch, hidden by such a flimsy piece of fabric that Ron wondered why she even bothered with it.

Hermione's head shifted. Ron looked down to see she was looking up at him, her eyes bright with an emotion he couldn't describe. What? He wondered, surprised by a sudden flash of desperation. Why can't you be clearer? It's not like I can read minds or anything!

Feeling defeated, Ron let out a long breath and relaxed; his knees sunk a little closer to hers and his fingers curled against her tank top. Hermione shifted slightly into his hand, not looking displeased. Taking this as a positive reaction, Ron flattened his hand and began running soft, hesitant circles onto her back. I wonder how far I can get...

Hermione's reaction was not negative. On the contrary, she seemed to almost enjoy it. Ron saw her eyes close; her lips turn up in a smile. Not willing to push his luck too far, he dug his fingers in slightly, imagining that she couldn't be upset with a back scratch.

This time her reaction surprised him. Her body bent, their knees bumping and her back arching into his hand. She made a long, low humming noise of pleasure that made the blood in Ron's veins burn with electricity. Bloody fuck! Merlin's trousers, what's happening?

/

Hermione was sure she'd found heaven.

Ron's hand - even through clothing - was large and warm and steady as he rubbed circles on her back. Where he touched her nerves tingled and stood on end, as if begging for something more powerful to sedate them. Nothing too fast, Hermione tried to tell herself. She didn't want to overwhelm him by telling him exactly what she wanted him to do.

Ron's hand hit the top of her mid back and dipped down to the small of her back before continuing to move at its pleasurably painful pace. His nails dug in a bit as he hit her middle back and a strong spike of arousal shot through her, straight to her core. It was all she could do not to whimper and forcibly tell Ron to scratch harder. Sweet Godric Gryffindor, does he have any idea what he's doing to me?

His hand wandered slightly higher than it had before. Hermione shivered and her upper body curled into Ron's chest; hard and defined beneath his Chudley Cannons T-shirt. As his hand dipped she dug her fingers slightly into his shirt, surprised when she heard him take a controlled breath.

Curious to see if she could evict such a reaction from him, Hermione began copying the pattern he drew into the back of her tank top to the front of his shirt. He trembled beneath her fingers and Hermione felt a brief spike of pride as she realized that she, too, could have this effect on him - she could make him feel the brilliant sparks.

Hermione longed to forget the boundaries; longed to kiss him and touch him and feel what it was like to be touched by him with no limits - nothing holding them back from being together, but at the same time knew it couldn't possibly be that simple. Strings, she sighed. Always strings attached.

But then again, was there really? She looked up into his deep sapphire eyes that were staring back at her, watching, as if waiting, for her decision. And what would that be? For me to kiss him again? It's his turn!

She raised her eyebrows at him, willing him to make a move. Please, she silently begged, praying with all her might that he would understand her unspoken question.

Ron's brow furrowed and he frowned in dismay. Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes. She was in his bed, right next to him, for that matter. She literally could not get any closer to him.

And he still didn't get it.

Ugh! Boys! I swear...

Hermione was officially done waiting.

Balling her hands to fists on his shirt, she craned her neck and kissed him.

/

It was the second time in the area of a month that Ron had been kissed by Hermione and, he must admit, it was brilliant.

Her lips were warm and soft against his; cautious, but also, as it seemed, determined. Ron let himself melt into the kiss, bowing his head to an angle which he hoped she could reach as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. Hermione cupped his cheeks, making that soft humming sound from her throat just as she had done earlier. Ron sighed, losing himself in the sensations of kissing her. I could do this forever...

But, in time that was far too soon, Hermione pulled away. Ron opened his eyes to see her staring at him, looking at him in that way she usually reserved for figuring out difficult questions on homework. Ron was wondering what she was on about when she said, "So."

"So," he replied, slightly amused by the way her eyes narrowed and lips pursed when he said that. Then he remembered what else those lips could do and wondered why they weren't.

Hermione's gaze flickered from his to glance at his lips and it was all Ron could do not to kiss her again. She obviously had something she wanted to say and Ron was hoping they could talk it out now so she didn't interrupt them again.

"What do you want to say?" he asked as she remained quiet.

She looked up at him, her cheeks flushing slightly as she realized what she'd been doing. "I was... it's just... what does that mean?"

Ron's brow furrowed. "What're you-"

"It has to mean something, Ron!" she said. Her voice was indignant. "I am here in your room - in your bed, for that matter! - and I kissed you again and... and it has to mean something." Her eyes were shining, as if she were looking desperately for something. Her nails were beginning to dig into his cheeks, making him slightly uncomfortable.

He pulled a few inches away, looking at her in a way he hoped would pass off as innocent confusion. "Do you... d'you mean like are we a thing? Or package... wait, no," he groaned, resting his forehead against hers. He felt her trembling a looked down, afraid he'd offended her, only to find her laughing. "Oi, what're you on about? Just because I'm not the best with words-"

"No, it's not that," she assured him, brushing his fringe aside in such a natural, tender gesture that he was taken aback for a moment. "You're just… sometimes I'll be irritated… but there's this thing you do that's…" she grinned, "cute."

"Cute?" Ron asked in dismay, which only caused her to giggle more. He sighed, relaxing as he let her giddiness wash over him. "Sure," he said finally. "I can be cute. I'll be the cutest fucking git in the world of that's what you want." He smiled at her, his eyes glowing with obvious affection. Merlin... I hope I don't say the wrong thing now.

/

Hermione was experiencing a wide variety of emotions. While she was happy that he seemed not to mind her kissing him, she was worried that it didn't mean that he liked her (for that is what he'd done with Lavender, correct?). She was also nervous; if he did like her, did he want to be in a relationship? Did she? What if they hurt Harry by doing so? Or worse, what if they broke up? They'd been friends so long - was she willing to risk that?

It seemed silly to be worrying about such things, considering she still barely understood what was going on herself. Despite this, however, her natural ability to think too much took over, and her mind went into overdrive.

He was smiling at her, a brightness she'd never known outside the sun glowing on his pale, freckled face. She was distracted by his expression and, as such, didn't register what he had said for a moment.

"What do you mean by that, Ron?" she asked cautiously, willing herself not to get her hopes up.

He shrugged, as if the question weren't so important. "I don't know. I can be cute if that's what you want. Personally I'd prefer something along the lines of dead sexy-"

Hermione sighed. She wasn't going to get anywhere at this rate. You need to stop trying to get him to say it, she told herself firmly. You've been doing that for years. You need to take action now.

"Ron, please..."

He stopped talking to stare at her, his mouth still slightly agape and his eyes alight in question. He closed his mouth. "What?"

Hermione felt her throat tightening. She let her fingers trace his jaw - making note of how his stubble scratched her fingertips and made them feel jumpy and tingly - just in case this was the last chance she would have to do so. The thought made a horrible pang of fear strike through her chest, causing her eyes to water. You're a Gryffindor, Hermione! Use some of that Gryffindor bravery and pull yourself together!

But, as she faced Ron, she could only think of how much easier it had been gathering the guts to hunt for Voldemort's horcruxes.

Hermione took a long breath, preparing herself to utter the words – the words she had spent countless nights denying and analyzing; considering what they actually meant and telling herself they would mean something different when she woke up in the morning. The words she had always thought about telling him but had always planned to carry to her grave.

"I fancy you, Ron."

Ron blinked at her, unimpressed, and for a single, horrible moment Hermione was sure he was angry. She was so sure of this, in fact, that when she felt him plant a kiss on her forehead, she couldn't help but cringe, willing the tears to stop making her throat sting.

"Wait, what's wrong?" Ron asked, his voice slightly panicky as he looked down at her. "I thought you just... didn't you - what'd I do wrong this time?"

Hermione shook her head, wiping her wet cheeks with her fist. "That's it?" she asked, her voice choked. She sniffed and was painfully aware of how loud it was. "All that and… and that's it? You've got nothing to say?"

"Of course I have!" Ron exclaimed. "I've got loads to say, I just reckoned it didn't need saying."

"Why?"

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly, his ears coloring. "I figured it was obvious, y'know? I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm bloody thrilled, but do I really need to say it?"

She narrowed her eyes, her heart pounding so loudly that she was sure it would give away the collected demeanor she was trying to hold up. "Yes. You need to say it."

He hesitated, his gaze fixed on her intently. "In all honesty?"

"Yes, Ron. All honesty. Completely honest."

His face was eerily serious. He nodded thoughtfully, looking at her as if he were searching for the right words (she wished he would just hurry up and find them already). "Okay. Honestly, I don't just fancy you."

Hermione's stomach dropped. She felt as though her book bag had just ripped open in the middle of a busy corridor and the ink had spilled all over her favorite books, except worse. It was more like she'd ingested the ink and it was forming a gaping hole in her stomach, trying to swallow all her insides at once. However, she didn't miss his odd wording. "Elaborate," she practically choked. At least it can't get worse than this…

/

Ron knew he shouldn't have let the pause go on so long, but he didn't know quite what to say. She'd wanted his honest opinion and he'd told her; he didn't just fancy her. He knew it was so much more, but he didn't know how much of it he wanted to tell her quite yet.

He wasn't sure what it was that finally drove him to speak, though he was sure it had something to do with the strained silence, only broken by Hermione's labored breathing as she struggled not to cry. Ron's own throat was stinging so that, when he spoke, the words were rushed and stuttered.

"I don't fancy you because I'm already in love with you." His voice caught on the last few words, slurring them together. As painful as it was to say, however, Hermione's reaction made it entirely worth it. He had imagined what her face would look like when he told her, but had been wrong, seeing as her face wasn't smiling brightly at him, but kissing him.

Unlike last time, where the kiss had been deep and powerful, this one was rushed. One of her hands had knotted in his hair, the other moving from his jaw to his neck to his arm, trying, as it seemed to pull him closer. Dazed from the new spike of adrenaline that had just rushed through him, Ron wasn't quite sure what to do. "Been… a while…" he tried to say around her lips, only to quickly realize it was useless.

Coming to his senses, Ron gave up speaking and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her closer to him. She intertwined her legs with his, arching her back further into him so he could feel her breasts pressing into his chest through their thin clothing. He groaned as all the blood in his body seemed to pump straight for his quickly growing arousal and attempted to shift his hips, only for Hermione to scoot closer. Maybe she won't notice, he hoped, trying to discreetly widen the distance between their lower bodies. Lavender usually didn't…

Though that wasn't exactly what one would call a fair analogy.

His train of thought was interrupted as Hermione bit his bottom lip rather forcefully, causing both of them to moan. Ron pulled his lip away and pushed her so his torso was hovering above hers. He ducked his head to kiss her neck, smiling as he felt her vocal cords vibrate. She craned her neck and he captured her earlobe, tasting the soft skin as Hermione shivered.

He remembered once stumbling upon one of those sappy romance novels when he was younger. He had been looking for one of his mum's cook books when he'd found it, sitting in the back of the shelf. Being the innocent soul he had been at the time, he'd opened it up and, to his luck, had found what was probably one of the most inappropriate scenes in the book. Of course, little Ron had been more confused than scandalized, as he had no idea why anyone would want to suck on another person's neck. He had, at the time, concluded that it was a vampire story and, because of his disgust in vampires, had put the book back immediately.

He had thought nothing of it until fourth year, after one of his first wet dreams starring Hermione. When he'd gotten together with his first girlfriend, he'd been wary to try the techniques which he'd read in the book because, due to the context which he usually experienced them, they didn't seem right with her. He'd tried to convince himself that he'd never get to try them on Hermione, so why bother waiting?

Looking back, he was glad he wasn't using Hermione as a guinea pig. Those first few snogs with Lavender had been awkward for him. Not only had Lavender had more experience, but he didn't quite understand her. She'd never moved the way he expected her to or acted the way he thought she would (not to mention she wouldn't let him touch her hair – that had always irked him).

However, he thought as he drew back and blew gently on Hermione's ear, causing her to whimper, if there was one thing he didn't regret from his time with Lavender, it was the experience she'd given him. There was now at least one thing in the world that he knew how to do better than Hermione and he was going to savor in that knowledge as long as he could.

Yet there was something different about kissing Hermione. Well, he'd always known that it couldn't possibly be the same, but there was something more challenging about it. For one, he noticed as she pulled his face up to reconnect their lips, she was more willing to take control of the situation. He smiled against her, only to be pushed away as she shoved him so he was on his back. He blinked to find Hermione straddling his waist, looking down at him with a gleam in her eye that Ron felt could only be described as dangerous.

Shit.

/

For a single moment, time seemed to freeze.

Ron was beneath her, smiling up at her in a dreamy, fascinated sort of way. Hermione wished she could've paid more attention to it, but there was so much going on that she was amazed she could form a coherent train of thought. Her heart was beating like a metronome in her ribcage, setting her veins on fire as blood raced through them. She could feel the effects echoing in her temple and core, her discomfort growing as she continued to take in the situation.

Ron's hands had fallen to her waist and were now touching bare skin where her tank top had ridden up. She was extremely aware of his presence on her hips, so near the source of her arousal that she was growing frustrated. Bending over him, she kissed the stubble on his cheek, remembering, with a slight pang of pride, when she had done so back in fifth year before the Quidditch match. How long have we been playing these games? She wondered. Well, I guess it doesn't matter now.

Ron's hands remained at her waist as she tangled hers in his hair, returning her lips to his. His left hand slid up over her tank top and onto her back, tracing the line of her spine back down again. Hermione shuddered and involuntarily bucked her hips against his, gasping as she became aware of something soft but firm poking at her bum. "Sorry," Ron panted, his hot breath flooding Hermione in the scent of spearmint toothpaste. "Didn't mean…." His next words word stuttered and distracted, but Hermione thought she heard something along the lines of 'no offense'.

"Oh, no!" Hermione said quickly, frozen where she was above him, not sure if she should move. "It's not offensive at all." She felt her face heating up and blabbered on before she could stop herself. "Actually, Ron, I find it… quite flattering. I mean, it would be offensive you weren't arous- I mean, oh my." She tried to bury her face in his neck, sure that even the darkness wouldn't be able to hide the ridiculous shade of maroon she must have turned.

She felt Ron laughing and hit him good-naturedly, beginning to smile as she heard him yelp indignantly. "Oi, it's not my fault! I was just not offending you!" He ran his left hand up and down her spine as he spoke. Hermione felt gooseflesh erupting on her skin and did her best to ignore that as well as the weird, tingly feeling that his hands left. She pressed her lips to his neck and planted a few tentative pecks, quieting him. At his ear she paused and whispered, "I love you too, Ron."

"Took you long enough," Ron said, though his voice lacked the sarcasm it usually held so naturally. He brought up one of his hands and pulled her hair aside so he could kiss her neck. "I've been in love with you forever," he murmured, laying back against his pillow. Hermione sat half-way up, smiling down at him encouragingly. He shrugged. "I mean, I guess I had a crush on you in fourth year, but I'm sure it goes farther than that. Somehow, it ought to."

"I understand," Hermione said, playing with his silky hair between her fingers. "I'm not really sure when either. There were always so many things happening…"

"Yeah," Ron agreed, chuckling slightly. He folded his arms behind his head, causing the muscles in his arms to test the thinning fabric of his shirt in a way Hermione would not consider unattractive. "Besides, I'll admit, I kind of was a git most of the time."

"You still are a git most of the time," Hermione said, only half-serious. "A tolerable git, though a git nonetheless. However, I can't let you take all of the blame. I wasn't exactly negotiable most of the time."

"Still aren't," Ron said matter-of-factly, and Hermione hit him on the shoulder again. He shrugged. "I guess we've just matured to the point where we understand that we're both annoying as fuck and, therefore, are destined to be together forever."

"That," she said, giving in to the urge to kiss him, "is probably the most sensible thing you've ever said."

She felt his lips tighten and part as he responded, "I try."

Hermione sighed, smiling until his hands returned to her waist, holding her more steadily over him. His fingers were pushing their way underneath her clothing, reaching almost up to her mid-back and making her shudder in response to his touch. It was amazing; all these sensations he could make her feel with barely even moving, that she wasn't even surprised when she realized she wanted more. Sure, this was pretty nice, but she wanted to feel him against her; see his pale, freckle-specked skin; experience it fully as she'd never been able to before.

Her hands – on their own accord – went down to the hem of his shirt. She carefully began to feel her way beneath it, her senses on overdrive. His skin was so smooth and easy to feel; interrupted by a prominent feature she determined must be his hipbone. And, as she slid her hand to the center of his stomach and up, she felt little hairs tickling her palm. She moaned quietly into his mouth, the thought of what they were doing almost more arousing than the act itself. Merlin, this is wonderful.

Somewhere around the time she found his bellybutton, Ron got the idea. Pushing Hermione away, he sat up and crossed his arms behind his neck, pulling his shirt up and tossing it aside, giving Hermione's dilated eyes an almost perfect view of his bare torso.

She had been a bit worried about this; the whole 'unclothing' situation seemed a little overwhelming in general, but seeing Ron like this most definitely made it worth it.

His muscles were lean and strong beneath his pale skin. His body was shaped and sculpted almost exactly how Hermione had imagined between hours observing and daydreaming, with a few details she could never have imagined. His shoulders, for example, were thickly covered by freckles; almost thicker than his face, though they gradually lessened as they worked their way down his arms.

However, the sight that greeted her wasn't entirely beautiful. As she looked closer, Hermione saw scars around the freckles, engraved eternally. She leaned back slightly and held up her hand to trace the lines on his left arm, a mark of the brains that had attacked him in their trip to the Department of Mysteries back in fifth year. And, as she got closer to his shoulder, she found the spiral marks resulting from an apparition gone wrong less than a year ago; that one had been her fault. She pushed down the vague sense of guilt that threatened to overcome her as she focused on him, following the path of his scars all the way to his chest, where the tentacles must have wrapped around and tried to strangle him.

She felt him shift and realized how strange she must seem to him. "I'm sorry," she whispered, unable to peel her eyes from his chest. "I just… I didn't know they went all the way around…" He could've died…

"Yeah." His voice was bitter. "It's horrible, I know. I've tried to get rid of them but nothing worked."

"No," Hermione said softly, pressing her lips to his shoulder, over where she knew the marks to be. "They're beautiful – you're beautiful. The scars – they're part of you, and maybe they'll never go away, but they'll fade with time until you'll no longer be able to see them." She planted another gentle kiss on his chest, on the marks she figured were closest to his heart. "I love you."

"I love you," he said in barely a whisper, and he coaxed Hermione's head up to kiss her again. "So much."

Hermione kissed him back, hoping he would understand what she didn't know how to explain. She draped her arms over his neck and teased his soft, short hair, trying to lighten the mood. She felt she had done so when he jumped, his lips tightening in a smile. "That tickles."

"What?" she asked innocently, smirking as she purposefully scratched her nails over the nape of his neck. He squirmed, laughing quiet enough that it didn't disturb their close proximity.

"I said that tickles," Ron laughed, reaching behind to pull her hand away from his neck. She opened her eyes to see he was looking at her, his eyes so powerfully blue she was certain that they were the reason the color was created; to unsuccessfully try to compare with his shade of blue. His eyelids dropped slightly and she was sure that if she were to look down she'd find a dreamy smile comfortably etched into his soft, beautiful, perhaps slightly red lips.

The look of pure affection in his spectacular blue eyes, the smell and taste of his toothpaste, his warm breath against her lips, the feel of his warm hands closed gently around her wrists, it was all so amazing that Hermione could almost feel it seeping in to every pore on her body, absorbing the joy she felt at this exact moment. She could feel a wetness building in her eyes as it overwhelmed her and, unable to contain it, she kissed him.

I wish it could be like this forever.

/

Ron couldn't imagine how he'd gotten so lucky. She was so beautiful; everything from her delicious chocolate eyes, her flowing caramel hair, her soft, creamy skin – she was like an expensive cake in the shop window that he didn't have a chance of getting, but still admired anyway.

But now he'd saved up the money, and he was going to enjoy every last crumb.

When she kissed him again, he responded immediately, releasing her wrists and wrapping his arms tightly around her waist and pulling her into him. He kissed her deeply, accidentally biting her lip when her nails scratched his neck. Apology on the tip of his tongue, he was taken aback when she moaned and bucked her hips against him. So she didn't mind a little biting? That was interesting – that'd been a touchy thing for Lavender. She's not Lavender, he reminded himself. Lavender had been completely dominate; a control-freak, some would say. Hermione, from what he'd seen already, liked top, but didn't seem like she would mind submissive. Well, he'd never figure it out if he didn't try.

He put his left hand on the mattress behind him and, securing his right arm around Hermione's waist, flipped and let her gracefully slip onto the bed. If she was upset by this adjustment she didn't show it, but instead made space for him between her legs. With his newfound power, Ron put his weight on his elbows, massaging his hands through her long, curly hair and against her scalp. They both groaned loudly as she thrust up into him, his already hard erection struggling against the confining fabric of his pajama bottoms. He moaned her name, delving his tongue into her mouth. She whimpered and squirmed slightly beneath him, her nails raking down the bare skin of his back. He could feel her chest rising and falling rapidly and, figuring she needed some air, began kissing along her cheek, slowly savoring the fresh, salty taste of her skin.

He gradually made his way down her jaw to her neck, trying not to leave a single spot untouched. He could feel her heart beating frantically beneath her skin and smiled against her, feeling satisfied to know that it was part his doing. Eager to hear more of the whimpers and moans that she was now making, he scooted backward so he could reach her collarbone. He pressed his lips firmly to the taut bone, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses along it.

He paused and straightened himself slightly as he looked down at her. She was lying flat against the mattress, her hair a messy halo around her head. Her chest was rising rapidly and mouth open as she panted. As he watched, she opened her eyes to look at him, her gaze puzzled. "What?"

"Um," Ron said, feeling his face heating up. "I was just… I, er," he paused. This would not do – he wanted Hermione to think of him as a mature adult, not a randy teenager (which he knew he kind of was but that wasn't the point). He cleared his throat, hoping she couldn't hear his heart, which felt like it was going to explode out of his chest. "I was wondering if I – I mean, if you would mind if I…." He cut off, looking down to hide his embarrassment. There was absolutely no good way to say it; he didn't want to make it so polite it was awkward, but also knew there was no chance he could pull off the desired 'sexy' angle.

The bed creaked and Ron felt Hermione small, soft hands on his bare chest, pushing him up. He obliged until she had it so she was sitting up, him kneeling between her spread legs. He felt her lips meet gently with his before she murmured, "Yes."

"Yes what?" Ron asked, pulling back to look at her. That could mean a lot of very different things.

He could just see the brightness of her beautiful brown eyes, a tight smile curling her lips. It was an expression he'd never seen her wear before; one of so much obvious love and affection that Ron couldn't help but smile as he felt his eyes growing wet.

Hermione looked toward his chin just as Ron felt her fingers stroking gently down his jaw bone. She leaned forward to place a tender kiss on his opposite cheek. "Yes everything."

Ron suddenly felt as though he was soaring on a Firebolt Series 3000 above the Quidditch stadium, right after winning the World Cup. He looked down, hoping Hermione wouldn't misinterpret his happiness, and his eyes caught the word 'Mudblood' scratched into her skin. Not wanting to ruin the elation of the moment, he easily wrapped one of his large hands around her arm and brought it up to his lips, planting a warm kiss on the scar as he looked up at Hermione. She seemed confused, then a bit solemn as she realized what he'd found. "I love you," he said in a hushed voice, "and I'd do anything to make you happy."

She grinned, a single tear sliding down her cheek. "I love you," she replied again, pushing their arms aside to kiss his lips again. Before he could do anything with his hands, she'd gotten a hold of them and led them to her waist, placing them beneath hers over her bare hips where her tank top had ridden up. "I trust you," she murmured, reminding him that he had to concentrate on what his mouth was doing as well. It was quite difficult as she was leading his hands higher up her midriff, pushing the thin fabric up as she did so. She pulled away. "And I want you." Her hands left his and there was some rustling, then the sound of clothing falling onto the wooden floor.

/

Hermione held her breath, every cell in her body seeming to freeze as she waited for Ron to react. Merlin… I do hope this is what he meant.

She could see the glint of his eyes as he looked down at her chest. He also appeared to be frozen Seconds seemed to slow down as she watched, waiting, praying she had done the right thing.

When Ron finally looked back up at her, he was positively beaming, giving him the appearance of a child who'd just received everything on his Christmas list. "Wicked," he said hoarsely. And the next thing Hermione knew, she was being pushed back to lay on the mattress. Ron gave her a quick kiss on the lips and almost immediately started down to her chin, his mouth leaving wet marks that chilled her heated skin.

Hermione ran her fingers through his short ginger hair, scratching his scalp as he progressed at an irritating pace down her neck and to her collarbone. He nipped at the bone in an experimental manner and Hermione clenched her jaw, trying (and failing) to contain the sounds escaping her. He shook slightly, apparently amused. I'd like to see how amused he would be if I-

One of Ron's large, calloused hands rested on her left breast, and thoughts of anything else hastily evacuated Hermione's brain. His thumb circled the soft skin and he squeezed cautiously. Though his moves were so subtle and guarded, the mere thought of what he was actually doing extremely erotic, and Hermione, struggling not to moan, hummed a long, solid note. She heard him chuckle. "Not bad, then?" he asked, a smirk evident in his voice.

"N – no, not at all," she responded, her eyes tightly shut. She grit her teeth as his thumb found her nipple and he squeezed it between his index finger. "Dear God," Hermione gasped, her hips jerking involuntarily as the nerves responded and the feeling echoed in her core in a way she'd never experienced before. "Wow Ron that's – wow."

He laughed, the sound filling Hermione's ears like a liquid. She smiled until he began teasing her nipple again, and then resorted to trying to not make embarrassing noises. This proved exceptionally difficult when she felt his mouth enclosed over her right breast. She cried out and arched her chest into the air, the feeling in her center intensifying at an alarming rate. "Ron," she whimpered.

Ron moaned, washing his warm breath over Hermione's chest and causing chills to run up her spine. Then his mouth disappeared to kiss her stomach, very quickly lowering to her hips. Hermione was trembling with the effort of not raising her hips to meet him as the area between her legs begged for friction.

He stopped at the hem of her pants and hesitated briefly. "Hurry up," Hermione said snappishly.

Ron snorted. "Bossy in bed too, I see. No surprise there."

Her retort was lost to his fingers slipping beneath her pants and knickers and he began pulling them down. Hermione raised her bum to allow him to take them off, adrenaline pumping through her system so fast she could hear it behind her ears. Somewhere far away there was the sound of material hitting the floor, and Ron's left hand rested on her right hip, his other hand on her thigh. "Bloody fucking hell," she heard him whisper as his right hand slid over her skin, so aggravatingly close to her burning center she could barely handle it.

And finally, after what seemed like decades, Hermione felt his fingers at her entrance, rubbing back and forth at a painstaking pace.

Fire was blazing along Hermione's nerves, her muscles throbbing greedily as they begged for more. "Oh my god, Ron," she breathed. Her hands – out of reach of his hair – were digging into the bed sheets with talon-like grips. "J – just go up a bit…"

"Like this?" His index and middle fingers dipped deeper into her, extinguishing some of the suffocating heat.

"Mmm yeah, and…" she reached down, taking hold of his hand, she helped him position it so his thumb was over her clit. "That."

"That?" Ron asked doubtfully, rubbing experimentally over the little ball.

"Yes," Hermione hissed softly, the fire suddenly exploding with a shower of sparks. "Exactly like that, Ron."

Whatever uncertainties Ron held seemed to disappear as he began rubbing against it vigorously, causing a strangely high-pitched noise to emanate from her. "Yes, sweet – yes. Try circles, and don't forget your other fingers."

Ron obeyed and Hermione molded into his fingers like putty, enjoying every little flare that surged up when he finally got the idea about how to change it up without Hermione's step-by-step instructions.

Time was void – measured only in different waves of heat and intensity as far as Hermione was concerned. Every movement he made – whether it be with his fingers or his lips against her stomach – was electric, making her crave even more. But when she felt the unmistakable looming tsunami wave beginning to take hold of her, Hermione knew she didn't want it to happen like this. "Ron, stop."

"What's wrong?" he asked, looking worried as he stopped his ministrations, the fire blazing in outrage. "Did I do something-"

"No," Hermione breathed, pushing herself up to Ron. "I just didn't want to – to orgasm quite yet."

"Oh," Ron said, his eyes shining and a wide smile consuming his face. "So that was good?"

"Excellent," she said, kissing him. "But now…" Her hands rested on his hips and she hoped he couldn't tell how badly they were shaking.

"Oh," Ron said, his voice taking a raspy edge. "Okay, er, here, let me."

He helped her work his pants down over his erection. As soon as his pants were out of the picture, Hermione allowed herself to examine it properly. "Fascinating," she whispered, glancing up into his eyes. "May I?"

His already flushed cheeks seemed to turn a darker shade. "Um, yeah. Have at it."

Pleased, Hermione bent over and wrapped a firm fist around it. Ron tensed beneath her touch. Following what instinct told her, Hermione slid her hand gently up and over the tip and Ron groaned. "Fuck," he swore. Slightly pleased with herself, Hermione was going to go back down again when she felt Ron's hand on her shoulder. "I – I don't think that's a good idea," he said. "How about we..."

"Oh, yes," said Hermione, letting go of him immediately. "Of course. Do you know the contraceptive?"

"Oh, right!" He leaned ridiculously close to Hermione as he reached past her to grab his wand from the nightstand. She couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. He put his weight on his knees and pointed his wand at Hermione's womb, checking the hand movement with her before casting the incantation. "Great, now that that's taken care of." He went to toss the wand aside but Hermione quickly grabbed it from him.

"Hold on," she said. "We'll probably want locking and silencing charms."

"Brilliant, you are," he said, kissing her on the cheek. Hermione felt the blood rush to her face as she cast the final wards. "Absolutely brilliant."

"Don't think for a second your flattery's going to work on me, Ron Weasley," she teased, the flirting coming more naturally as she placed his wand neatly on the nightstand before laying down.

He chuckled as he crawled over her. "Really? I'd've reckoned it already has."

She sighed, her breath catching in her throat as she felt his erection against her entrance, and suddenly talking was the last thing on her mind. Nonetheless, she attempted to keep up the comfortable bantering he was so adapted to. "The act of me being in your bed does not mean I have merely succumbed to something as simple as flattery." She wrapped her arms over his shoulders, smiling up at him as she lovingly caressed his hair. "It is a much more elaborate scheme, involving a basis of feelings and emotions that have driven me here that you so luckily reciprocated."

Ron smiled, a genuine, smile she'd seen him use so often that it almost seemed out-of-place in this context. "I love it when you talk dirty to me," he said, leaning down to kiss her. "I love you."

The words seemed to be growing more natural every time he used them. Letting her right hand drop to trace the marks on his scarred shoulder, Hermione kissed him back lightly. "I love you too."

"You sure this is okay?" he asked, pulling back and looking down at her seriously. "Because I can understand if you want to do a date or something first-"

"No, Ron," Hermione murmured, a laugh catching in her throat. "I trust you. It's only ever been you. Please…"

He didn't seem to need anything else. With those words, Ron shifted and Hermione felt the head of his erection slide into her. They both gasped at the sensation; if such a small movement made this difference, Hermione couldn't imagine what his entire length would feel like. Actually she wouldn't have to imagine, she thought, as she felt more of him enter her, testing her tight walls. She groaned as he moved further yet and hit an obstruction. "Just do it quickly," she whispered hoarsely. The shaking in her hands from earlier had now spread throughout her entire body, making it difficult to be as close to Ron as she'd have liked.

Ron was motionless above her, the muscles in his back tense. Then, without warning, he thrust into her, breaking her hymen and making Hermione cry out in shock and pain. "Fuck," he groaned, his forehead resting against Hermione's. "Fuck, I'm sorry! Fuck, fuck, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she gasped, trying with all her might to ignore the stinging. Ron tried to pull out. "No!" she yelped, squeezing her legs against his hips, trying to prevent him from moving. "Don't – don't move. Just… I just need a moment."

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked desperately. When she looked up, his face was creased with a strange mix of ecstasy and worry. She couldn't help but smile slightly, the pain beginning to numb as her muscles adjusted to the sudden invasion of space.

"Just be closer," Hermione murmured. He obediently relaxed some of the weight from his elbows, allowing some of his weight to rest on her. "Thank you," she whispered, enjoying the sensation of being so close to him.

"Welcome." His head rested on the mattress beside her left cheek. Hermione ran her fingers over the tense expanse of his back, her own body slowly uncoiling as the stinging in her core was gradually reduced to a dull throb, and then almost nothing.

They lay there in comfortable silence until Hermione realized Ron's rigid form above her beginning to tremble. She kissed his sweaty temple. "Okay, Ron, you can move now."

"Sweet Merlin," Ron sighed, lifting his head to smile down at Hermione. "I was sure you were trying to do me in!"

"There's no evidence against that theory," Hermione giggled, but Ron only smiled and kissed her in reply, slowly beginning to slide in and out of her at an unsteady rhythm. Adapting to the new feeling, Hermione began raising her hips to meet his, helping him move effectively faster and deeper. His room was filled with the sounds of grunts and groans, whimpers and moans as they finally got the hang of it. "Oh R-Ron," Hermione rasped as she felt her chest tingling in an almost unbearable way.

"Fuck Hermione," he moaned, and the sound struck straight through Hermione, right down to where he was now desperately thrusting into her. Their kisses grew sloppier as they both climbed higher, their moves becoming more frantically and cries louder. Ron's consistent string of swears was broken as he grunted, losing control. "Bloody hell – Merlin's trousers – I'm almost there, Hermione."

"M – me too," Hermione cried out as the tingling sensation spread throughout her entire body, intensifying with every thrust. This was so different, even in contrast to when she'd almost climaxed with Ron just minutes before. It wasn't the same fire washing over her, it was more of a constant fizzing sensation flowing throughout her, threatening to overwhelm her at any moment. "Oh my God that's so… that's… wonderful so… oh, yes."

Ron groaned loudly, putting emphasis on each word. "Shit, shit, shit, oh fuck, Hermione, yes." He continued to moan her name as Hermione felt him let go, sending her over the edge with a brilliant explosion in her core. Everything around her was set aflame by stars, pounding and throbbing in a way so beautiful Hermione could never have imagined it.

As her climax was beginning to ebb, Hermione felt Ron's weight slump on top of her, but she was too far away to care. Actually, if anything, the feeling of his warm, damp skin was very welcome. After a moment, however, Ron rolled over so he was on Hermione's right side. Hermione felt his arms wrap around her waist and his lips against her cheek as they continued to lay there, basking in the warmth and wonder of the experience they'd just shared with each other.

"Well, that was fucking brilliant."

/

Ron felt Hermione shake with laughter in his arms; it was a wonderful feeling.

"I can't disagree," Hermione said in a falsely indifferent voice. "I mean, your language could do with some improvement, but otherwise, I'm pretty sure that was, in fact, brilliant."

He kissed her cheek lovingly, unable to muster the energy to reach up to capture her lips. "I love you," he heard her whisper heavily, her eyelids becoming heavier as she watched him.

"I know," he replied, his hold around her tightening. "I love me too."

She hit him on the shoulder, but not as hard as she usually would have. Ron shook with laughter. "I love you, too, Hermione. Forever."

She shifted, tilting her head so he could reach her lips. "Forever," she agreed, wrapping her arms around his shoulder and neck and pulling him closer to her, her fingers lazily messing with his hair.

Ron smiled. It was so different – her warmth, the steady, slowing beat of her heart, her hot, sweaty skin against his, her breath against his cheek and neck; it was almost as if he were in a dream.

As he began to drift off, he couldn't help but smile because this wasn't a dream. The dream Hermione had somehow become his reality, and he would do anything in his power to make sure it remained that way for a very long time.

Sorry for keeping you guys waiting so long for that! I'm quite happy with the final result and hope you all feel the same way.

Please favorite/review this chapter if you haven't already and thank you for reading! I wish you all a Merry Christmas (or whichever holiday you celebrate if not Christmas) and I wish you all luck going into the New Year!

See you next year everyone!